Today I got a taste of the terrible twos.
Our day ended with an epic battle between mother and son over the Easter eggs that he had strewn all over my parents’ kitchen. I got him to pick up all but three. Those last three eggs were still sitting on the floor next to the basket that they belong in when we left this afternoon. Our drive home was a time-out. He got another when we got home (as promised).
I read somewhere recently that kids this age are just jerks a lot of the time. I’m lucky in that my child isn’t a jerk most of the time. Apparently though, when he cares to make his jerk move (such as looking me in the face as I ask him to pick up the eggs for the eight-thousand and first time and saying “No” clearly and with purpose) he sticks to his guns. I spent about 40 minutes of the last part of our day at my parents’ house putting him in time-out for two minutes, pulling him out and giving him a chance to put the eggs away, having him refuse, and then putting him straight back into time-out.
There was yelling (mine). There was rude defiance (his). There were tears (also his).
In the end no one really won. All I can hope is that somewhere deep in his synapses he got the message that although he may have the capability to be a stubborn little jerk, he comes by it naturally and I can hang in there with the best of what he’s got to offer.
The other option is that I just leave him in the pack-and-play in Sarah’s bedroom with the lights out until he turns eighteen. One more good day of this and that may be the option that wins out.